A Prince of My Own: Forever Yours Series Read online

  “I will soak it in a bit of warm water and, my lady, you will have to be off this foot for at least a week."

  “A week! Dr. Astor,” her mother began, appearing considerably stricken. Henry looked as if he had been given a reprieve from the hangman’s noose, and Miranda wanted to do a happy twirl.

  “That just will not do. My daughter and I have a house party to attend, and it starts tomorrow. We must be there! Please summon the master of this residence."

  “At your service, madam.”

  Her mother stared at him in apparent shock. It was unexpected for a physician to have such evident wealth and property. It was unusual, and Miranda stared at him with abashed inquisitiveness.

  “Well,” the countess said, “I would like for you to have your best carriage ready so we may depart early tomorrow.”

  Dr. Astor stood. "You are a great deal too injured to move. There might be a small fracture, and once the swelling reduces, I shall bind your ankle with linens. I daresay it may be a full two weeks before I would recommend any walking and another three for dancing."

  He glanced outside into the sleeting rains. The doctor strode over to the window and stood looking out. After a few minutes, he said, "This weather will also not permit any traveling for a few days."

  As if to support the doctor’s assurances, thunder rumbled, and fat heavy drops of rain descended from the sky, slapping against the glass like pebbles. Her mother was sorely vexed by this and did not hesitate to voice her displeasure.

  “I shall have the three best rooms in the manor to lay our head,” she said with such arrogance Miranda winced.

  She ambled forward tugging at her wet bonnet which was becoming an irritant. She untied the strings of her bonnet and removed it with a sigh of relief. Dr. Astor’s sharp intake of breath was audible for all to hear and Miranda flushed, appalled at the piercing pleasure which burst inside her chest. They stared at each other, and she was painfully aware that her mother and brother glanced from the doctor to her.

  His regard skipped over her face slowly, as if he memorized her features. Her skin burned pleasantly where his gaze had touched, her pulse tripped alarmingly, and a flush rose on her skin. Noting her reactions, the doctor’s mouth curved in a slow, unsettling smile before his mien was rendered unreadable.

  “Mamma is in pain, Dr. Astor. We shall thankfully receive whichever rooms are available.”

  He considered her for several moments, his expression still carefully inscrutable. “It would be my honor if you would be my guests until you are both fit to travel, Lady Langford, Lady Miranda, and Lord Sutton.”

  He rang the bell, and a maid appeared. The doctor was a bit curt with his instructions, and Miranda wondered at the change in his temperament. Not that he was overly pleasant before, but now he seemed downright uncivil.

  "Dinner here is simple but quite appetizing. You may join me in the dining hall at seven or request a tray for your rooms. Whichever is preferred." Then he departed the parlor.

  “Henry, you will go ahead with Miranda to Lady Peregrine’s—”

  “I’ll not leave your side, Mamma,” Miranda said firmly. “And you shall not be able to convince me of it. The house party is lost to us, and you must recover so we can travel to Lincolnshire to be with papa.”

  Her mother huffed her agreement, though her dismay was evident for all to see. Soon Miranda was comfortably fitted into an elegantly designed bedchamber. Her room was next to her mother’s, a bit smaller, but just as tastefully furnished. Henry had been placed further down the hall, but from the lack of complaint from him, she gathered he was pleased with the accommodations. A bath was delivered to her delight, and she soaked away the rain, mud, and travel from the day at her leisure. She was pleasantly surprised a maid had been sent up to assist her with her toiletries. Miranda slipped into her nightgown, too weary to head downstairs for dinner. At her request, a tray was brought to her, and she quickly consumed the delicious meal of roasted beef, baked trout, asparagus, and baked sliced potatoes in crème sauce. She also drank half the content of the decanter of sherry which had accompanied the meal.

  The tray was left outside her door, and she climbed into the bed with a gusty sigh. The disaster of the house party had been averted. Folding her hand beneath her cheek, she turned onto her side and attempted to drift away into slumber.

  Dark blue eyes, and sharp cheekbones teased behind her eyelids. The way he had inhaled as he stared at her, yet his eyes had given nothing away. Did you find me beautiful? Her body trembled in reaction to the awareness she wanted him to find her attractive. Miranda felt sure she would expire from the shock.

  Her eyes flew open, Miranda lurched upright in the bed and touched her cheeks and below her throat. “I am not fevered,” she muttered with annoyance. “Then why am I thinking of a gentleman I’ve met for all of five minutes?”

  It shocked her to realize she was not impervious to the doctor’s charm. Any such attraction to a man her family would never consider to be a good match would surely be perilous and silly, yet she could not deny what she had felt. Perhaps that ache in her heart and fluttery feeling low in her stomach had been an aberration, and in the morning when she saw the doctor, her pulse would not tremble at all. For all she knew the man could be odious in his character, an ogre with no redeeming qualities. She closed her eyes, recalling the tender and kind way he had assisted Mrs. Denniston and her son, the way he had treated Mamma despite her arrogance and sense of superiority. No, the doctor was a kind man…and perhaps with many more layers to his character. Miranda drifted to sleep wishing she would eventually know all of them.

  Chapter 3

  The doctor’s manor was a lovely, spacious, sixty-room building which sat on several acres of land with the most beautiful lake set in the grounds of the property. Based on Miranda’s cursory inspection after breaking her fast, the ballroom which folded into the large drawing room had been converted to a hospital of a sort, with several small beds, and sofas with many cushions in the rooms for patients. She had peeked around the door, and had seen the young lad, Tommy, resting with four other children, three girls and a small boy, each slumbering on separate beds. Miranda had slipped away, astonished at the doctor’s generosity.

  Her mother had hobbled from her room with Henry’s help, despite the doctor’s order that she should remain off her feet. Mamma had regretted it and had managed to hurt herself more. Dr. Astor had once more soaked her foot in warm water and had gently rubbed a pungent-smelling ointment on her mother’s extremities. Then he had lifted her in his arms, mounted the stairs with such ease, and deposited the countess to her room. It had amused Miranda to notice her mother blushing and staring at the muscles of the doctor's arms.

  The sky remained overcast, so any long walk would not be wise, and Miranda found herself out of sorts and perplexed with what to do with her time. She had spent an hour touring the grounds of the estate before the threatening rains had forced her indoors. Slipping into the room the housekeeper indicated was the library, she faltered on the threshold, gasping with surprised pleasure. His library was wonderful! Elegantly shelved walls of books rose in splendor. The library was decorated in antique red, blue, and gold, with four soaring windows facing the rolling expanse of the estate grounds. Mahogany bookcases lined the walls and rose beyond the second floor extending to the vaulted ceiling. There was even a ladder to climb for fetching and returning books, and there was a staircase for the higher levels. Her feet sank into plush Aubusson carpet as she glided across the expanse of the room, truly struck by the beauty of the library. It was at least three times the size of the libraries in each of her homes, and Cheswicks did everything impressively.

  Miranda plucked a gothic romance from the shelf, surprised to see such a title there. Holding it in her hands, she did a slow tour of the lower shelves, noting the dozens of medical journals, mostly on rare diseases and anatomy. Dr. Astor appeared to be very interested in his field of study and was serious in his pursuit. She wondered what
had inspired such dedication. On the carpeted floor by the low burning fire, four books were scattered about. Three were various medical books, one a gothic mystery. Miranda grinned, liking they had a common reading interest. Her father and brother forever berated her on the deplorable books she read, yet there was an intelligent and learned gentleman enjoying the same stories.

  The door swung open, and she whirled around, clutching the book to her chest.

  Dr. Astor only noticed her after closing the door and strolling halfway across the room. This morning he was dressed with neatness and propriety if not in the first stare of fashion. His hair was still a little over-long, and there was a shadow of a beard along his jawline.

  “Pray excuse me, Lady Miranda. If I had had the least suspicion you were here, I shouldn't have dreamt of disturbing you.”

  He made to leave, and she surged forward. “Please, Dr. Astor, do not leave. This is your home, and I am the intruder."

  He turned back to her. “You are my guest,” he said with a warm smile. “Not an intruder.”

  His smile was a sensual assault on her senses. And alarmingly the irresistible beauty of his curved lips made her heart flutter madly. Her reaction last evening had not been an aberration. How ridiculous you are being, Miranda! She fiercely berated herself, yet she couldn’t help returning his smile.

  The doctor ambled over to a large oak desk and chair by the windows and picked up a heavy leather-bound book. A quick glance showed it was a medical journal. Then he selected another from the shelf.

  "I shall leave you to the serenity of the library, Lady Miranda." Then with a short bow, he walked toward the door.

  She stepped forward. “I wondered, Dr. Astor, how is Tommy this morning?”

  He paused with his hand on the doorknob and stared at her in an unflinching, ungentlemanly manner, but what thoughts were running in his head? It would have been impossible for Miranda to guess.

  “He is awake with a fierce headache which is to be expected. He is very lucid, and there does not seem to be any swelling around his brain. I have asked his mother to remain my guest for the next few days so I might observe him, then they may continue on their journey.”

  “I am glad to hear it,” she said. “And I do hope for a full recovery soon.”

  “Mrs. Denniston will be heartened to know you asked. I shall convey your kind wishes.” He continued staring at her, and she flushed under his prolonged regard.

  “Is there something else, Doctor?” Why does my heart beat so?

  “I wonder if you might oblige my patients with a spot of reading?”

  “And which patients are those?”

  “There are five children here. Tommy, William, Little Emma, Lydia, Jasmine, and Serena. I normally read to them, but I have been told recently I would win no accolades in the playhouse.”

  Miranda laughed lightly. “I would be happy to read to them. Tomorrow as well if they should believe I am up to the task."

  “You do not mind? There is a local society here that would be thrilled to have you at their various entertainments.”

  “I daresay I’ve had enough parties! I was uncertain what to do with my days while Mamma recovers, and this seems like it would be fun.”

  “Very well,” he murmured, and the appreciative glint in his eyes made her belly flutter in all sorts of odd but thrilling ways. "If you'll follow me, my lady."

  He opened the door and sauntered away, and with a smile, Miranda hurried after him, unable to explain her reaction to a man she had no business feeling anything for, even if it was a passing fancy.

  * * *

  Lady Miranda’s closeness had a powerful response on Simon's heart. And quite unexplained too. For he’d never had such a reaction to anyone before. Her slender and quite elegant curves were draped in a pale blue cinched-waist gown with a close-fitting bodice trimmed with white lace. She was the possessor of a delicate, heart-shaped face, a pert nose, sharp yet feminine cheekbones, and very sensual lips. Thick lashes framed her extraordinary green eyes, which glowed with bold curiosity whenever she peered at him.

  The lady was ravishing, one of the most beautiful he had ever seen. She appeared nothing like the beleaguered miss he’d rescued last evening. Simon felt an unwilling attraction pulse through him as his body reacted with painful immediacy to her lush, sensual beauty. But he ruthlessly denied the attraction, for he’d had intimate pain at the hand of a woman who was beautiful but hid a black, greedy, heart. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe all women of such ravishing beauty also held a fickle soul, he however would never allow himself to fall into thrall with a woman because of her physicality. At least not since he was a green lad of one and twenty. It was her character which mattered to him most, though he would allow the kindness he’d seen her display was refreshingly genuine.

  “Do the children like music?”

  He glanced down at her. “I’ve never had reason to ask. But I do have a pianoforte. Do you play?”

  Her lips curved in a smile and drove the breath from his lungs.

  “Superbly,” she murmured.

  He smiled, noting there was a sadness in her eyes which dimmed her radiance, and he wondered what had put such unhappiness on such a fair countenance. He opened the door to the drawing room, and the children who were on a large carpeted area playing cribbage jerked around and waved wildly.

  She touched the sleeve of his jacket, halting him. “I wanted to thank you for your hospitality, Dr. Astor, and for ignoring Mamma’s querulousness. I fear whenever in pain, mamma is not as wonderful as I know her to be,” she said warmly,

  He arched a brow. He mingled enough with those of elevated society to know they did not proffer apologies. How rare and interesting. “I shall bear it in mind.”

  They made their way to the children who observed their progress with degrees of curiosity.

  “Are they all ill?” she asked, sympathy furrowing her brow.

  “Yes, but they are in different stages of recovery.”

  “You’ve converted your ballroom and larger drawing room into an area to treat your patients. I’ve never heard of such a thing before. Don’t you ever dance?”

  “Creating a safe haven for the sick is more important than balls.”

  She flushed. “I did not mean to imply otherwise. I…I was simply curious about you.”

  He felt like an eel. "Forgive me," he said with a slight bow. "I have on occasion danced at the local assemblies." And a few balls which his family held. But he kept that information to himself. Many people tended to treat him differently when they realized he was Lord Simon Astor, the third son of a duke. They became unfailingly polite or fawningly pretentious, all hoping to meet the far more important members of his family.

  "For many years the people of the village only had an apothecary to rely on for aid. When I finished my last course of study in Edinburgh, I bought this house with a portion of my inheritance from my father. There was a severe outbreak of cholera in the village a few years ago, three to be precise. It was challenging for me to travel to so many houses and patients who needed me each day. I thought it made sense to have them under my roof instead.”

  He wasn’t sure how he felt about the admiration warming her eyes. “It was nothing,” he said gruffly. “I was doing my duty.”

  “I daresay it was more than that,” she whispered with a smile. “You made a part of your beautiful home a hospice, not many would be so generous with their wealth and time. I daresay this was more than duty, Dr. Astor.”

  "What else should I do with so many rooms?" he said with a hint of humor. "I converted the drawing room and the ballroom into comfortable spaces with several beds for those who are too ill to be moved. For the last two years, it is mostly children who occupy those rooms. Critically ill adults are assisted to London for proper care.”

  They reached the children, and he made swift introductions.

  “A real lady?" eleven year-old Lydia demanded with a dubious frown, reaching out to finger the skirt
of Lady Miranda's dress. "Like the ones who drive through the parish in their fine dresses and carriages?"

  Simon chuckled. “Come now, Lydia, what have I told you about manners?”

  She pouted and then smiled shyly at Miranda before dipping into an awkward curtsy. All the children followed Lydia’s suit, considering she was the oldest.

  Lady Miranda charmed him by returning the honor and sinking into a deep curtsy. “It is a pleasure to meet you all,” she said with a broad smile.

  Tommy gaped, and Simon entirely sympathized with the boy.

  “I was hoping to read to you today,” she said, leaning over and plucking the book from his hand.

  The children perked up at that and rushed to sit in the center of the carpet. He read to them in that informal style on the ground. “I will drag the sofas and tables over—”

  “Please no,” she said, tugging off her gloves and dropping them atop one of the side tables. Then she toed off her walking shoes and her stocking-clad toes curled into the soft thickness of the plush carpet. “The floor will do quite nicely.”

  And it surprised him that something so simple would be enough to beat back the shadows of sadness he had spied earlier. Her green eyes glinting vibrantly, she lowered herself onto the floor, in the center of the children. What has your life been like, my lady, he silently wondered.

  She opened the book and lowered her voice into a dramatic hush and then started reading. With a smile, he walked away to attend to the other side of his responsibilities, managing his small estate and the several tenants and workers he provided for.

  Unexpectedly, he realized he was inordinately glad Lady Miranda would be his guest for two weeks.

  Chapter 4

  Three days after the arrival of his unexpected guests, from the windows of his library, Simon stared in astonishment at the picture before him. Lady Miranda was sprawled on her stomach in the grass by the hidden grotto near the lake, creeping on her knees and belly, a mischievous smile on her face. The sight of that sweet smile filled Simon with an unexpected intense rush of pleasure. He swung the telescope toward the direction she stared and blinked when he saw his wolfhounds crouched, wagging their tails, and staring at her with rabid anticipation. She crept forward, and the blasted dogs mimicked her, meeting her in the middle of the wide-open ground. He wasn't sure if the dogs were acting like her, or if the lady was acting like the dogs. Two of the massive dogs bounded over to her, and she hugged them to her and scratched behind the great brutes’ ears, laughing when they tried to slobber on her chin. Simon chuckled at the outrageousness of it all. He stood there for a long time observing the delight she took in something so simple as playing with the animals.